On the bright side

Looking on the bright side is something we are told to do from the time we are old enough to reason. You had to eat spinach? Look on the bright side. You had to go to bed early? Look on the bright side. Your mom made you wear that? Look on the bright side.

From as early as most of us can remember, we are encouraged to look at the sunny side of life. We may not like spinach or bed time or pink, frilly dresses, but we’re taught to be grateful for whatever we have: food on the table, a bed to sleep in and clothes on our back, no matter how pink or frilly.

And for our boys, things are certainly no different. I find myself reminding them daily to “Think positive!” and say, “I can do that!” Looking at the cup as half full is a skill, and one that we would have all been well-served to have mastered while we were young.

It seems that at least one of the boys is taking our encouragement to heart. Brisco’s sunny disposition was obvious to us when he was still very small. He’d wake up in the morning and look excitedly out his window at the beautiful day ahead and shout, “Mom! Dad! It’s a sunny day!”

Of course it’s easy to find the good in a delightful situation, like baking cookies or whipping up pancakes. Flour? It’s good. Sugar? It’s real good.

And he’s managed to work that same “sweetness” and charm for close to four years. Rather than trying to argue or cry his way out of trouble, he will typically take a more positive approach. With his brown eyes twinkling and that chubby-cheeked grin, he’ll attempt to put a positive spin on almost any situation. Like right after he pokes a hole in the center of a freshly-baked birthday cake. “It’s good that I didn’t poke two holes, ant’n it, Mom?”

He’s even learned to find the good in the least likely of scenarios. Like when he’s had an injury or when he’s broken the rules or when he’s simply due a good spanking.

Just yesterday he came running to my side through screams and tears, blubbering, “I was dwibbling the bak-set-ball and it bounced right up and hit my nose and it hurt!” And after a few seconds of rubbing his nose and hugging his momma’s neck, he looked up and said, “It’s good that I’m not bleeding, ant’n it, Mom?”

It’s interesting to me that he seems to know just when to throw in an upbeat approach. Like after he insists on putting his own toothpaste onto his toothbrush, but uses at least half a tube in the process. “It’s good that I didn’t drop any on the floor, ant’n it, Mom?” It’s a little harder for a mother to stay upbeat when there’s $.95 worth of Ultrabrite squeezed into the bathroom sink.

And after spilling his water glass at the dinner table, which is almost a weekly event, his response may come in a variety of forms: “It’s good that I didn’t spill all of it.” or “It’s good that I already took a drink out of it.” or “It’s good that you didn’t give me a big cup like Daddy’s, ant’n it, Mom?” (He’s had to master several approaches to the spilled drink scenario.)

Then there are times when no response other than his happy-as-a-clam-quips could be more comforting to a mom, like the day just a few weeks ago when we thought we had lost him.

It was a beautiful Saturday to spend outdoors doing anything, even cutting down trees and picking up sticks. We had three neighborhood boys running around and helping and yelling and riding bikes. It was a day long overdue for two little boys who live and die to play outside.

After several hours of hard work, I noticed that the yard seemed a little quiet, so I took a moment’s break to check on the boys. I found the three big ones, but the two little ones were MIA.

After quizzing the other kids and walking around the house, through the garage and down the alley, I began to feel a mixture of anger and apprehension at where those two knot heads might be.

Knowing how Brisco likes to play hide and seek, I decided to search the house one more time, spouting threats and promises of Daddy’s belt if he didn’t immediately come out. But when I heard his weak, shallow whimper, I knew he could not.

I followed his sounds into the bathroom to find my three year old boy sitting on the toilet, boots on the floor beneath him, head folded over resting on his knees, dirt streaked across those chubby-cheeks, and real tears falling from his twinkling, brown eyes.

“I’ve been calling for you, Mom, but you never came!” he cried.

Feeling relieved that the boy was safe at home, I couldn’t help but hold back a smile and a tear of my own. And as we finished the business at hand, with his legs blood-red and tingling from the lack of circulation, he hugged my neck, wiped his snot on my shoulder, and said, “It’s good that you didn’t wait any longer to come look for me, ant’n it, Mom?”
Well said, young grasshopper. It is good.

Most days, keeping this kid on the sunny side of life is a breeze; staying positive just seems effortless. And whether it’s learned or ingrained in his delicate DNA, I know it’s a gift to both parent and child. The mark of his good nature (and our good luck) makes encouraging this child to see his cup as half full a piece of cake…freshly-baked, and with only one small hole.

And that’s All in a day’s work!